He lifted one eyebrow. “Those bubbles are hard to form and hold, you know. I’ve never done one that wasn’t around myself.”
The bubble trick was one he’d learned for survival. Attaching it to something else, especially without life and death as a motivation, might take some doing. I smiled. “Aw, come on. Just move the bubble in front of you. Put it around the fork.”
He grumbled something that sounded like, “Most guys only have to come up with wine and roses.” Then louder, he said, “Gimme the fork.”
When he handed it back to me, I could tell no difference, except it smelled of his magic.
He stepped back and watched me work, his eyes hooded as though he were still concentrating. I left him to do his thing and did mine.
Holding the fork near the ground, I duck-walked behind the signal halfway to the door before it completely stopped right in the middle of the store. Searching from my position, I noticed a nearly one-inch gap at the bottom of the entrance door. “Looks like the rubber weatherstripping is missing from under the door.”
White Feather leaned down to look. “Or wasn’t ever there.”
Running the fork along the bottom of the door yielded another light tug that I was sure would return directly to the body, but with White Feather’s bubble keeping it focused, this line went around the jewelry counter on the other side and into the office. “In and out and then it stops.” I followed it twice. “But this weak line never goes to the body. Odd. The fork is set to the body. It’s like it’s following something that came from the body, but never went back there.”
I wandered throughout the store, letting the witch fork hover. There wasn’t any sign of aura near the jewelry cases. They had been smashed open and looted hurriedly. “Was she a witch? What was her name?”
“Alicia Romero. No idea if she was or not.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. It’s almost as if the dead lady magically pushed an object into the office and used it to turn the alarm off. She didn’t walk back there. The signal isn’t strong enough. But whatever went into the office didn’t return to her.” I didn’t like where my thoughts were taking me. The pattern almost resembled someone controlling a familiar.
“Maybe one of the other perps picked up whatever it was and carried it out. With that weak signal, and all the people investigating the scene walking through here, the trail might have been obliterated.”
I shrugged. “Maybe you should have Lynx stop by here.”
“Why?”
“His nose.” Lynx wouldn’t be pleased about being asked, because his birthright and past were sore spots. “Lynx can tell us if the victim was a shifter. And if she wasn’t, he could probably tell us if they brought in an animal that the others took home with them, some kind of familiar.”
“A familiar.” His eyes narrowed as he considered the idea.
“You should also ask Gordon for a picture of the dead woman, too. I can show it to Mat.” Many witches sold on consignment through Mat’s shop to prevent broadcasting to the world who and what they were. Mat might recognize the face, but not the name, because most witches didn’t use their real name.
“Photos won’t be pretty.”
“I don’t imagine so.”
He switched off the lights, and it was time to go. Home. The new one, not the old one. I was too tired to fret about it.
Chapter 5
Waking up next to White Feather did a lot to make staying at his place worth it. He took his time saying good morning, persuading me that I was welcome. The bedroom was a safe haven in his home; one of the few rooms in his house that was completely intact. Computer terminals on his hand-carved desk monitored the power-generating reeds and windmills that had been rebuilt along the edge of his property.
The purely masculine ambiance was very different from the decor of my own bedroom, but the combination of hand-worked wood married to his engineering background was a comfortable blend of magics.
While White Feather showered, I stretched lazily. My eyes couldn’t help but drift to the dark, gnarled mesquite dresser that was his connection to his heritage and far more than a gorgeous work of art. White Feather was a guardian of the sacred place hidden behind the dresser. His grandfather’s ghost still kept guard too, but I had never seen him.
The place wasn’t home, but I could probably get used to it. I had better, because returning to my place wasn’t in the cards, at least not right now.
When White Feather was finished showering, I took my turn before joining him in the kitchen. The dining area, what was left of it, had been shut off from the elements with plywood and plastic sheeting. It didn’t hurt my feelings that I was still close enough to guest status that White Feather started frying bacon for breakfast while I sipped hot breakfast tea spiked generously with half and half.
I never bought half and half, but men didn’t concern themselves with things like “calories” and “healthy.” If I hadn’t already been in love, the morning activities and breakfast would have sealed the deal.
As he grated cheese for omelets, he said, “Don’t forget we’re having dinner at my mom’s house tonight. She’s really looking forward to meeting you.” He smiled at me over his shoulder.
“Uh-huh.” I hadn’t forgotten, despite filing it waaaay in the back of my mind where it wouldn’t make me nervous. I decided to forgo the wonderful view that was White Feather cooking and bring in the rest of my luggage.
I slipped off the bar stool and strolled out to the car. We had left several bags in the trunk and backseat, rather than haul everything in last night. I extracted two suitcases before carefully rescuing my little pear cactus. In the old days, the placement of the cactus on my own porch signaled Lynx when a business offer was in the making. These days, he had a cell phone, but old habits died hard. I wanted the cactus even if Lynx wouldn’t know to look for it here.
I placed it gently on the porch in the same spot that on my porch meant “meet needed.”
“Breakfast,” White Feather said from the doorway.
I jumped, stuck in a time-warp as the prickly shrub brought to mind memories of a scrawny kid anxious to prove he could do any job, any time, better than any of the competition. “Coming.”
White Feather picked up one of the suitcases. “You’ll need a few more trips back and forth to your place.”
The sound of a vehicle distracted me from answering.
My buddy Lynx managed to outsmart me again. That or his nose for food was even better than I suspected. He parked and sauntered up the walkway.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered. “How did he know I was here?”
“Maybe because you belong here?” White Feather suggested.
Lynx cocked his head in a way that told me he was listening intently to his surroundings, but his nose didn’t twitch, not in the least. His black hair hung in small braids, almost cornrows. It was a look he could pull off well. He was probably mostly Hispanic, but his skin was dark enough, you could never be certain of his exact heritage. Like the shifter he was, he chose to highlight some physical aspects more than others depending on his mood—or the job.
Since food had somehow become a standard part of the payment package, as we trooped inside I said, “Heavy on the bacon, easy on the eggs.”
Lynx grinned. “Hold the OJ.”
“If White Feather has green chiles, I’m putting some in your eggs.” The typical banter made me feel more at ease as we arrived in the kitchen. This wasn’t my home, but I’d just pretended it was. If Lynx hadn’t been here, I’d never have had the guts to take over White Feather’s kitchen, but no way did I dare look hesitant in front of Lynx. Letting him know I was off-balance was akin to handing him a weapon. He might use it on a mutual enemy or he might find a less beneficial way to wield it.
White Feather said, “I don’t have any green chile unless you count cans.”
“Ick.”
“No way,” was Lynx’s contribution. Since he made a big show of avoiding all vegetables he would have s
aid that regardless of the freshness of the chiles.
I busied myself with the bacon. Lynx stood next to me as if we were in my kitchen, something he had done a hundred times before. He watched over the bacon while I dished up the cheese omelet. Both of us stole a glance or two at White Feather, but he was busy tinkering with rebuilding his coffee train set. It was an awesome invention; a train designed to deliver coffee to a roaster, grinder and then the brewer.
“We have a job for you,” White Feather said to Lynx.
“That train looks too uphill to me,” Lynx replied.
I jabbed him in the arm. “Not the train, dummy.”
Intent on his project, White Feather allowed himself to be distracted from the job discussion. “I decided to improve the old design. I’m thinking of putting the roaster below the counter, but I’ll have to vent it outside and put in a serious fan. It generates a lot of heat and smoke when roasting the beans.”
The old train system, powered entirely by a miniature windmill, had been destroyed by the tornado. White Feather had given me one of the original cars. It would probably make the magic of the new one stronger if I let him use it in the new design, but he had carved it himself so I was selfishly keeping it.
“Don’t matter to me where you put it,” Lynx said. “I don’t drink coffee, but keeping the smoke out of the house is a good idea.” He grinned at my eye-roll.
“We need you to help investigate a robbery,” White Feather clarified as he opened a small jar of wood stain. “Use your—”
I broke in because Lynx could be very sensitive about his skills, especially any open reference to his bobcat skills rather than his human ones. “Check the scene. Tell us what you can. Lady died there. She might have been a shifter. Or there might have been one there, if not her.”
“Might need to examine the body after you check the crime scene.” White Feather dabbed stain on a tiny chipped section of the burl wood that formed the base of the mountain scenery. “You up for the job?”
Lynx did what he always did. He carried his food to the bar that ran between the kitchen and living room and started eating. “Usual rate. Tell me the location. I’ll go tonight.”
“We can do this today,” I said. “White Feather has a key.”
“Why you always want to work in daylight? Better to work at night.”
“We can be there legally,” I pointed out. “Which means we can get it done faster before the smell...evidence gets trampled.” For all my sensitivity, I could blow it with the best of them.
Lynx cut his eyes to me and missed a half-second of chewing, but then he said, “I can do it after one-thirty. Got business before that.”
I didn’t ask.
White Feather frowned. “The contractors are coming at noon to bake more adobe bricks. But there’s no reason you two can’t take a look without me.”
“Do you have enough spelled chicken wire mesh for the bricks and wall?” I had spelled several rolls with a diluted mix of silver and copper.
“Plenty. Your dad prepared more special ashes for the bricks, but I want to ensure the bricks are mixed and baked properly.”
“Okay.” It was important that we both had a hand in the building and design. You could buy spells or hire out work, but you couldn’t impart that extra special essence without doing at least some of the physical labor yourself. Even if I wasn’t moving here, I’d make sure he had the best protection a witch could spell.
White Feather added, “I’ve decided to double up on the adobe on the inside wall between your lab and the main house like you did at your house. Not a bad idea to keep things separated.”
The reminder of my latest disaster set me to grumbling under my breath. “I had no idea at the time that it would be useful for keeping a vamp out.”
Lynx perked up his ears, not that he was in danger of missing a single word.
“You guys check the jewelry store, and if you don’t pick up anything useful, we can arrange a visit to the morgue. The lady from the first break-in has already been autopsied. The one from last night hasn’t.”
Bodies and their discussion didn’t bother Lynx. He never missed a bite. I wanted to ask White Feather more questions about the house rebuilding, but I didn’t want Lynx to know how much I didn’t know. I pressed my lips together and went back to the car to haul out the last of my bags.
Chapter 6
Since everyone else had plans for the next few hours, it was a good time to visit my best friend, Matilda. She needed to know about the rogue vamp and my run-in with Patrick. Mat was also the most likely person in the entire city to know if either of the dead women at the crime scenes were witches.
We had been best friends since the day we met in grade school. She was everything I was not; flamboyant, outgoing, a redhead with green eyes, and a witch who was more than happy to do business out in the open.
Her shop was the place to be and be seen. Only I didn’t want to be seen, even though we were best friends. She was always intermittently busy, and today the place had no less than three women shoppers and Jim, Mat’s boyfriend, packed inside the small store.
Getting personal time with that many customers around wasn’t happening. Opportunity was slim even for Jim, apparently. As soon as he recognized me, he sauntered over to chat.
“Hard to get in a word edgewise in such a popular place.” Jim was clean-shaven and almost as good-looking as White Feather, but he was shorter and stockier. With dark sunglasses, his swarthy Hispanic looks and confident swagger, he could easily make a living as a tough guy in movies. His blue jeans and tucked in t-shirt were bad-boy tight. A nice package that Mat was having trouble keeping her eyes off of. Probably her hands too.
I grinned. It was nice to see Mat so blissfully focused on a guy. We witches had a hard time finding people who accepted our quirks.
“Business is good,” I said. “Maybe I should come back later.” If he hadn’t had a chance to chat with her yet, I wasn’t next in line.
“Might clear in a few minutes. I’m on my way out. We just grabbed coffee and dessert at the new place down the street for an early lunch break.” He kept his voice down, but the shop was small. “I didn’t have a chance to tell her I won’t get off work until late, but I'll see her tomorrow morning. If you talk to her, let her know for me, would you?”
“Sure.”
He walked backwards out of the shop, purposely pausing to entice Mat to glance his way.
Flirt.
The three ladies perusing items seemed determined to giggle over every spell in the place. They were well-heeled, dressed in tailored pants and nice sweaters similar to outfits my sister Kas often wore. They were dolled up as if they had just spent the day at a spa luxuriating in a full makeover from head to toe.
Rather than hover in my low class jeans and sneakers, I sidled to the back of the shop where a curtain of beads separated the shop from Mat’s living room. She always invited me to take cover rather than stand around like an aimless waif.
Before it could slip my mind, I wrote her a note with Jim’s message.
Another minute or two and the cash register slammed shut on a stream of giggles and a purchase. Mat waited a few seconds before she appeared in the doorway. Her flaming red curls were perfectly coiffed into a french twist. Since dating Jim, some of her flamboyance had been replaced with elegance.
“The gods are smiling on me,” she said. “There’s a fabulous new bakery up the street and right next to it a new nail salon. I can close shop for fifteen, but let me check to see if more people are coming.”
I waved my hand. “Don’t bother.” I gave her a succinct rundown on the vamp invasion, completely ignoring her gasps. When I finished the story, rather than dwell on it, I slid on to the next item on my list. “I really came by to see if you know any witches by the name of Alicia Romero or Dana Clark.” White Feather had written the names down. I handed her the scrap of paper.
She waited for more information, but when none was forthcoming, she rolled
her eyes. “Okay, so I can find you at White Feather’s if I need you. It will surprise you to know that is exactly where I would have looked if you weren’t at home. As for Patrick,” she shook her head. “Wow.”
“There’s no point in hashing it to death,” I grumbled.
“Given that he’s already dead, agreed.”
“Very funny. Do you know either of the names?”
“Neither rings a bell, but if you watch the front for me, I’ll check my records. I assume this has nothing to do with the vamps.”
We traded places at the doorway. “Nope. I’ll get a picture of the ladies in case they were using alternative names for their witching business.”
“Last time you had me look up a witch, she was a ghost. You’re not still getting such visitors, are you?” Her joke fell into an awkward silence. She glanced up at me from her spot leaning over the computer.
I sighed. “Not yet, but these two are in that realm.”
“You’re a real breath of fresh air today, aren’t you?”
I kept one eye on her and one on the door. She worked at the computer and talked. “You should visit the bakery up the street. Jim and I ate breakfast there this morning. Heavenly cinnamon rolls. At noon they have sandwiches and desserts. It’s a total sin factory. Oh, and the coffee. I love coffee.”
I grinned. Jim had mentioned the place, but she called it breakfast, not lunch, so things were obviously going really well between them. “Do they have tea?”
She straightened up from the desk. “Nothing under those names. If you get a line on what kind of spells they might have sold, I might be able to help. Witches don’t use their real names most of the time, but they all have signature spells.” Without missing a beat, she switched back to food. “Yes, Sweet Puffs has about forty kinds of tea and cakes to compliment each blend. The place is upscale, but the prices are decent, if just barely. With the nail shop starting up right next door, business has been booming for me. The ladies get their nails done, have a bite to eat and gosh, so long as they are out having a good time, here I am!” Mat beamed, her green eyes sparkling.
Under Witch Curse (Moon Shadow Series) Page 3